


Resigned to Fate (Fading Away)

by punto_y_coma



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punto_y_coma/pseuds/punto_y_coma
Summary: Soulmate AU: Being next to your soulmate heals injuries.





	Resigned to Fate (Fading Away)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been crying about them for weeks wtf

"No, no, no, no, no! Eds?!"

Richie leaned over Eddie, patting his arms, cupping his face, too aware of how frail he looked to shake him awake. His eyes were closed and he wasn't really moving, not to bicker, not to breathe... A shiver went down Richie's spine.

Faintly, in the back of his mind he could hear Bill: "Richie, we have t-to go."

And Beverly, softer, sadder: "Honey, he's-"

"No!" he didn't let her finish. "We need to help him," the way his voice sounded, like a wounded animal, felt perfectly fitting for this moment; he had been thrown around and so close to dying at least seven separate times... Then he felt Ben's hand holding his arm, pulling him away from Eddie. "Don't you fucking dare! I'm not leaving him here, so you either help me get him the fuck out or you leave without me!"

It took two seconds for them to decide. Between Ben, Mike and him, they dragged Eddie, unconscious and sopping wet, up the sewers and out the house just in time to see it collapse in on itself.

"Fucking clown," one of them muttered.

_Fucking clown indeed_, Richie thought as they lowered Eddie to the ground. He sat and propped him up, over his knees, lifting his head carefully, and still pressing over the gaping hole in his chest, even though it was bleeding less and less. Was that a good or a bad sign?

Beverly, the only one with two working brain cells of the lot, had left her cell phone stashed inside a mail box a block away and was now calling 911. Richie was vaguely aware of her lying her way through the phone call, saying that Eddie had been impaled by a pipe as the house collapsed, that he wasn't responding and hadn't been for about three minutes. Had it really been so little since?

"Rich," Bev squeezed his forearm gently, "let me see if he has a dog tag," she nudged his arms away from Eddie's bloody chest but found nothing underneath his shirt. Richie let out a whimper.

When people found their soulmate (or donor, if you weren't on good terms), they put their name on a dog tag and put the dog tag around their neck. It was an unwritten rule and common sense. Hell, it was probably a health and safety regulation and Eddie loved to follow those. Even if you had fallen out, even if you had divorced, even if you didn't consider them your soulmate anymore, they had to be there. Some people went as far as getting the name of their soulmate tattooed: it was both romantic and practical. As devastating as it would have been to find out the name of Eddie's soulmate in this particular situation, some unconscious part of Richie had been counting on it. Now they couldn't expect some beautiful stranger to pop up and save the day by simply holding Eddie's hand. No, like always, it was on Eddie to heal himself.

"They're on their way, honey," Bev said kneeling in front of him, making sure that he'd heard her. He nodded and sniffled in response. When the fuck had he started crying?

"You hear that, Eds? Hang in there," he said between sobs. He felt the concerned stares of his friends, as they rounded him, like he had finally lost it. Maybe he had. "Don't leave me, you fucker," he whispered into his hair, letting his lips press on the top of his head.

Then Eddie's frame started shaking with violent spasms as he coughed some kind of black slime out, gasping for air like he had been drowning. They all knelt around him, waiting.

"Did I kill It?" Eddie asked after a moment, his voice gravely, his eyes still closed.

"Oh, thank fuck," Richie sighed. "No, dude, we had to yell at it and kick it some more but you get an A for effort," his taunt was a little undermined by how wet and relieved his voice sounded.

"I saved you, asshole," Eddie mumbled faintly, apparently slipping in and out of consciousness, somehow managing to raise his hand to hold Richie's. His breaths were still labored and uneven but it was so much better than the absolute silence of moments ago. It kind of reminded them of when he freaked out and needed his inhaler, back when they were kids... Richie felt as small and useless as he did back then.

~

He had never been so happy to hear the sound of sirens. They put Eddie on a stretcher and into the ambulance, Bev riding shotgun and Richie going in the back. The rest of the Losers promised they'd catch up.

"Is he going to be okay?" Richie asked for the fourth time once the ambulance started going.

"He is stable. He's definitely going to need surgery, though," the paramedic, a young and pushy man, insisted on checking Richie's vital signs and Richie, in turn, insisted on not letting go of Eddie's hand while he did. "It seems that you're fine, just in shock," he said, seemingly unimpressed when Richie screamed at the tiny flashlight being pointed at his eyes. _That's only one light_, Richie reminded himself. "Good thing you were there, your guy here wouldn't have made it," he patted his arm and turned his attention back to Eddie, fussing over needles and tubes. "So, how'd you guys meet?"

"We grew up here," Richie said, still out of it. "Best friends since elementary school."

"That's sweet," he cooed absentmindedly.

"Wait, what do you mean 'your guy'?" Richie frowned.

"I try not to make assumptions," the paramedic shrugged, not taking his eyes off Eddie. Apparently, he was capable of being nosy and good at his job at the same time. How fucking annoying. "We tend to have delicate conversations in this line of work. It can get awkward quickly. 'Your guy' is a safer choice than 'your husband, your boyfriend, your donor, your soulmate'... You know what I mean."

"Oh, he's not-"

The ambulance stopped, the doors opened, and they started rolling Eddie to surgery.

"You can wait here," the paramedic stopped him from following with a hand on his chest and pointed at some ugly, beige chairs. "They'll call you when he's out. I'd take a shower if I were you, they are a bit strict about donors in post-op."

"Wait! But I'm not-" and the paramedic was gone. Great.

"Come here," Beverly opened her arms for him and he folded down to fit into the crook of her neck, tears drying on his cheeks. "He's going to be fine," she murmured soothingly. He really wanted to believe that.

After a while, he let go of Beverly and took his glasses off, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. "I think I need to sit down," he mumbled, stumbling towards the chairs.

It felt all like a weird dream where he had no sense of time. Suddenly, there he was, sitting in a waiting room with his forgotten childhood friends, Bill and Mike on each side, Ben and Beverly across from him, all covered in grime and blood. At some point, Ben got the cuts on his stomach stitched up, Mike brought coffee for all of them and Bev got them bland sandwiches from the cafeteria. Bill sat stoically by his side, patting his arm every now and then, waiting.

"Eddie Kaspbrak?" a nurse asked after what felt like eighty hours. They all stood up. "The surgery went well, you will be able to see him tomorrow," they all sighed with relief. The nurse checked the chart she was carrying. "Richard Tozier?"

"That's me," he perked up immediately.

"Donors are allowed to stay overnight to help the healing process but you should definitely clean up before that," she scrunched her nose at him. "We don't want to risk an infection," she gave them a curt smile and left.

"What the fuck was that about?" Richie turned to his friends. "And why do people keep telling me to shower?"

"Ok, don't be mad," Bev looked a little guilty as she grabbed his forearm. "I might have written that you were his soulmate in his intake papers."

"You what?!"

"Donors get privileges at hospitals! You get to see him today, isn't that great?"

"For me? Yeah. But it won't do shit for him," Richie reasoned.

"You'll be with him, of c-course he'll feel better," Bill said and they all hummed in agreement.

"I can't believe you're agreeing to this, Bill. This is a shit idea! They'll know I'm not his soulmate!"

"Only if you tell them!" she insisted.

"Fine!" he surrendered. "But if I get arrested or something, you better bail me out, Beverly."

~

They gave him scrubs to change into and a disinfectant solution to pour on his skin (already red from his boiling-hot, hour-long shower), and showed him to Eddie's room. Walking through the labyrinth of glass and curtains that was the hospital, he saw some of the patients with their soulmates, sitting by their side or cuddling up on their beds. Richie suddenly remembered how much he hated hospitals; it wasn't the sickness and gore aspect of it, it was this parade of couples playing 'My love is better than your love' ad nauseum. He managed to drown the impulse to fake vomit at one couple of teenagers holding hands and making eyes at each other.

In his room, Eddie was sleeping. The beeping of machinery and the weird chlorine smell were unsettling but otherwise it was a pretty scene: his best friend, with his boyish face and always worried frown, breathing peacefully. Richie pulled at the hem of his shirt, wishing the scrubs had pockets to tuck his hands into, to contain the impulse to grab Eddie's hand and interlock their fingers. He felt a tug in his chest as he remembered every damn time he had forced his hands into some lewd gesture to stop himself from touching Eddie. He sat on the chair by Eddie's bedside, his hands under his thighs, and stared.

Not even five minutes later, Eddie opened his eyes, like it was a fucking Lifetime movie.

"Hi, Rich," Eddie's voice still sounded raspy and he looked a little disoriented. "Why are you wearing scrubs? Are the others coming?"

"Yeah, not exactly," Richie rubbed the back of his neck. "Bev thought it would be funny to list me as your donor."

"My donor?" Eddie cocked his head in confusion. Apparently, the sedatives were still at work, that was the only explanation for his health obsessed brain to forget these kinds of things.

"Your soulmate, Eds," he explained, feeling that same pressure on his chest.

"Oh," Eddie didn't say anything else, just stared blankly and bit his cheek.

"To be fair, I think she was trying to beat the system and get news of you as soon as possible," Richie added. "And she knew no one would believe you're straight, so..."

"Fuck you!" Eddie said through a tired grin. "Can I talk to her? Them? Are they alright?"

"They're all fine," he reassured him. "Ben had to get stitches on his abs, and that was a whole thing. Every nurse at the hospital had to assist the procedure, weirdly enough," Eddie giggled at that and Richie marveled at his dimples, he thought he'd never see them again. "They're coming tomorrow but we can FaceTime if you're feeling up to it."

"Yeah, let's do that!"

Richie set everything up and handed him the phone only to find that Eddie's right hand was shaking badly and he couldn't really lift his left arm.

"Fuck. It's all these drugs," he shook his hand like that would do anything helpful. "Come up here, asshole," Eddie scooted to the side of his bed, making room for Richie.

"You sure? What if I unplug something and you die?" Richie asked, uncharacteristically worried.

Eddie rolled his eyes and death-stared at him until he climbed up and started calling Bev's phone.

"Eddie!" the rest of the Losers cooed and talked over each other, fighting over the phone and asking different iterations of 'Are you okay?'

"I'm okay! I feel a little groggy because of all the pain meds but, yeah, surprisingly fine!"

"He's not Pennywise, guys! He hasn't tried to kill me once!" Richie quipped.

"Don't even joke about that, asshole," Mike shouted.

"I hear I have to thank Bev for gifting me with Sexy Nurse Tozier," Eddie arched his eyebrows in Richie's direction, who had to fake cough to hide his embarrassment. What the hell was going on?

"You're welcome, honey! It took a bit of convincing but I'm glad someone appreciates my ideas," Bev said from the lower side of the frame as Bill was holding the phone.

"We'll let you r-rest now, see you tomorrow, b-buddy!" Bill waved and Bev blew him a kiss and it was over.

Richie put the phone on the bedside table and moved to get down from the bed.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Eddie said softly. "I mean you've probably been sitting down all day and- If you'd like to stay here for a little longer, I wouldn't mind," he clarified quickly.

"Okay, uh, yeah, I'll stay a little while," Richie crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, feeling relaxed for the first time since he had set foot in that God-forsaken town.

"Does your soulmate mind?" Eddie asked suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"That you're here, with me, pretending to be my soulmate," he explained.

"Oh, your mom is okay with sharing," Richie deflected, getting a disappointed glare from Eddie.

"Rich..."

Richie took off his glasses to try to clean them with the hem of his shirt; the glass had broken and filled up with blood, probably Eddie's. He sighed.

"It might surprise you, what with my undeniable charisma and leading man looks, but I haven't found my soulmate," he bit the inside of his cheek. "And uh, for the record, we did look for your dog tags. This isn't us being careless idiots and not giving a fuck about your health..."

"I know that, Richie!" Eddie nudged him with his elbow. "I was just asking, is all," he paused for a moment and then added: "I don't think it's anything to do with you. Bev and Ben are, you know, traditionally attractive, and they haven't found anyone-" he stumbled awkwardly with his words.

"Eds, they're each other's soulmates," Richie said like it was common knowledge.

"What?"

"Yeah! You should have seen them in the waiting room. Napping on each other's laps, sharing those secret looks... I'll be surprised if our dear Beverly isn't riding that dick _right now_," he emphasized the last few words by poking at Eddie's thigh with his index finger.

"Woah," Eddie's eyes widened. "But- Aren't soulmates supposed to, what's the word, gravitate towards each other? There are studies about that shit. What took them so long?"

"I'm guessing it has something to do with our clown friend and his goddamn curse to make us miserable," Richie shrugged.

"Makes sense," Eddie seemed to think that was a good enough explanation and relaxed back on his bed. It looked like the pain meds and the longass day they had gone through were taking their toll on him, his eyes half-lidded and his breath slowing down. "Hey, Rich," he mumbled, "thanks for not leaving me down there."

"Of course, buddy," Richie smiled. "Anything for you," he muttered a while later, unsure if he wanted Eddie to hear it.

"You smell nice," Eddie said softly; his eyes were closed now and he was leaning towards Richie's shoulder.

"I smell like fucking Purell!" Richie contained a cackle and managed to make it into something like a snort so that he didn't disturb Eddie. "You're a fucking weirdo, Eds," he said fondly despite himself.

"Maybe so," Eddie hummed. "G'night, Richie."

"G'night, Eddie."

~

Richie didn't really sleep during the night, too preoccupied that he might wake Eddie up or hurt him if he moved in his sleep. And so the night was spent in quiet contemplation of Eddie’s soft hair and funny nose, fearing every time he moved that he would move away from him, and feeling his heart race when he got closer still. It was every dream and every nightmare he'd had as a teen all rolled into one.

It wasn't like he had forgotten he liked guys after he left Derry. But having a crush on a guy he'd met at a bar was nothing compared to this. He had forgotten he loved Eddie. _He had forgotten Eddie_. The weight of guilt and words unsaid and futures unlived settled on his chest, right about where Eddie's head was resting. He had been living in hell and he hadn't even noticed. And now that the curse was over he would continue to live in hell, he realized. Eddie was married, to a woman, and sure, maybe she wasn't his soulmate but neither was Richie. Actually, now that he thought of it, he was surprised that Eddie had settled. Back when they were kids, he used to eat up every romance story, talking at length about how all his problems would be solved when he found his soulmate; no more illnesses and no more meds. They used to make fun of him for it, how desperate he was for a happily ever after, like some four-year-old girl obsessed with princesses. Maybe he had forgotten about that too...

~

At seven in the morning, a nurse came by to change Eddie's bandages.

"You should get some breakfast in the meantime," she suggested, getting to work while Eddie was still knocked out by the meds. "If he wakes, I'll tell him you'll be right back, don't worry," she smiled in a motherly way and Richie left immediately, he didn't want to start crying in front of strangers so early in the day. He ordered some pancakes and forced himself to eat the whole plate covered in maple syrup and two cups of coffee even though his heart was already racing. Maybe it was for the best that Eddie wasn't his soulmate, he wouldn't be able to handle taquicardia 24/7. Soulmates were supposed to heal each other, not cause debilitating anxiety attacks.

~

Eddie woke for a little while, ate some jello, complained about the flavor and how hungry he was, and then fell back to sleep. Richie spent his time trying to cheer him up with bits and trying to sleep in the ridiculously uncomfortable chairs. Eventually it was visiting hours and he went to look for the Losers in the waiting room. He caught Bev and Ben in the middle of a ritual of sorts: they were pressing their palms over bruises and cuts, giggling and gasping in surprise when the bruises dissolved and the cuts healed themselves. Richie had seen this kind of thing back in high school: if a boy was lucky enough to have found their soulmate it only made him all the more stupid, it was like having an undo button for reckless behavior. Boys would go running for their soulmate to get a scraped knee kissed away and go on playing. He had been terribly jealous back then. Seeing his friends like that was nice… And also very weird.

He cleared his throat. "Hi, guys!" he widened his eyes in an awkward grimace. Luckily, Bill and Mike joined in and saved him from third wheeling to death.

"Can we see him?" Bill was so excited he looked ready to gallop like a pony to Eddie's room.

"Yeah, let's go," Richie guided them and then pointed to the door. "He's in there."

Bill, Mike and Ben pushed each other, eager to see who would go in first. Bev stayed behind with Richie.

"So... You and Ben, huh?" Richie nudged her side with his elbow, a knowing smirk playing on his face.

"Yeah, it's- I feel like I'm twenty-one and stupid in love," she giggled and covered her face with her hands. "Sorry."

"Nah, you deserve it," he put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. In some other life, without Pennywise, they would have been the best of friends, Richie knew. Sharing cigarettes, navigating their chaotic twenties together, having each other's backs, like brother and sister.

"What about you and Eddie?"

"What about us?"

"'Sexy Nurse Tozier'?" Bev wiggled her eyebrows.

"He was high on pain meds! I can't believe you're even bringing that up!" he shook his head in mock outrage. "He could have died!"

"But he didn't!” her tone was suddenly serious and she walked a few steps ahead of him to look him in the eye. “What if- What if you're his soulmate?"

"Don't. I don't need that kind of shit right now," Richie scowled.

"I mean it," she made him stop before they went inside the room. "I was sure he was gone! You were holding his dead body! And last night he was laughing and talking and alive! Because of you!"

"It's not like that," Richie shook his head. He had compiled a thorough list of evidence that proved Eddie was not his soulmate back in middle school when his crush had started getting out of hand. He had lost the paper where it was written but he could still remember the gist of it: Eddie’s soulmate was out there somewhere, ergo, Eddie deserved better than him. "Don't you think I would have noticed? I know you think I'm a fucking idiot but give me some credit, Bev."

"That's not what I meant," Beverly, who had looked so sure just a moment ago, deflated in front of his eyes. "You know what, forget that I said anything. Let's say hi to Eddie and just let everything else go, okay?"

Richie nodded and put his arm around her again. "I'm sorry," he rubbed his free hand over his face. "I haven't slept and I feel like shit."

She gave him a soft smile. Richie didn't blame her; she had found happiness and now was set on making everyone else happy. But maybe (probably, most likely) that wasn't in the cards for Richie.

~

Eddie had ups and downs. He had moments when he was awake and talkative, not his regular hyper self but something adjacent, softer, like he had just woken up. Richie liked to see him like that. Then there were times when he was restless, irritable or in so much pain that he wouldn't be knocked out by the drugs they kept pumping in him. It was harrowing to see, and Richie would do whatever he was asked to make it better. Rant with him, call the nurse, climb into bed with him to keep the AC from hitting him directly. What he couldn't do was keep his mouth shut.

"Why did you settle with your wife?" he asked the question before he realized. Richie had been ruminating on that thought since the night before. Next to him in bed, Eddie glared at him with all his might.

"I'm going to _choke_ you, dipshit," his voice a growl and his face full of annoyance. "I already have a headache."

"Sorry," Richie grimaced and made a show of zipping his mouth shut.

"Thank you," Eddie sighed dramatically and after a couple of beats added: "Also, even if I didn't have a headache it would be none of your goddamn business who I marry and why. What if she payed me an obscene amount of money to marry her because she needed a green card? Huh?"

"Did she?" Richie asked, furrowing his brow.

"Of course she didn't but that's not the point!" Eddie was fuming but Richie didn't think that the rage was directed at him anymore. So he waited. "I get why you're asking," Eddie said after a while. "I was so fucking determined to find my soulmate when we were kids and then I sort of forgot? It's fucked up, right?"

"I forgot a lot of important shit too," Richie replied softly.

"Yeah. Fuck. It's not even that I love her, you know? I felt lonely and she made me feel less so but I also hate her because she won't leave me the fuck alone," it was said in a single breath and Richie could see the boy he grew up with so clearly in the guy lying next to him. If they were kids again, Richie would have flung his lanky arm around Eddie's shoulders and tugged him to his side, so perfectly natural and right. However, he remembered Eddie's injured side and decided on holding his hand instead, give it a reassuring squeeze. That wasn't terribly weird, was it? He turned to look at Eddie, and it was maybe a second too long, or maybe he noticed that Richie wasn't looking into his eyes but at his lips... "Anyway, uh, Bill recommended me a fancy divorce lawyer to get her out of my hair and I think I'm going to do it. I lost my ring in the sewers already, now how's that for a sign of fate?"

"Ha," Richie lay back on the pillows and pretended to adjust his glasses as an excuse to let go of Eddie's hand. "That's- That's great, Eds."

"I think it will be," he nodded to himself. "I might get a dog now; she didn't let me do that."

"A Pomeranian?" Richie asked through a smirk.

Eddie guffawed. "Yes! I'd like that. Give me a heart attack every time I saw it," they shared one of those partner-in-crime looks and Richie's heart soared. They stayed in comfortable silence for a while, until Richie caught Eddie yawning.

"You should try to sleep," Richie said.

"You try to sleep!" Eddie retorted but with not much bite, he was so tired it sounded almost tender. "You look like shit, Rich."

"Well, fuck you too, man," Richie giggled. He got down from the bed and set the chairs so that he was sitting on one and his feet were resting on the other, covering his torso with a sweatshirt. "Happy?"

"You could go back to the town house, I wouldn't mind," Eddie mumbled.

"What kind of pretend-soulmate slash best friend would that make me, Eds?"

The question floated between them and would remain unanswered.

~

Richie was no stranger to nightmares, what with the childhood trauma and the list of fears he didn't even acknowledge, but this felt different, important, close to reality and scarier because of it. They were back in It's lair, he had a throbbing pain on the back of his skull and his back. He fought to open his eyes.

"Rich."

That was Eddie's voice, far away and suddenly very near as he opened his eyes. He was hovering above him, fussing, worrying and Richie wanted nothing more than to drag him downwards and hold him, keep him safe. But he couldn't move, he couldn't save him. All at once it happened again, Eddie had that awful claw coming out from his chest, a spray of blood falling over Richie's face. Eddie collapsed on top of him and Richie couldn't help him.

"Please! Please!" he tried to scream and only choked noises came out, far too quiet for the others to listen. He felt his own chest getting soaked in Eddie's warm blood, too quick to stop it. "I'm sorry," he sobbed into Eddie's ear. "It's my fault. I should've-"

He couldn't finish. The air was refusing to go into his lungs, his throat whistled and he started coughing up blood and there was a burning pain on his side, like his ribs were folding in on themselves.

_Oh_, he thought automatically and not knowing where it'd come from, _this is how Eddie feels_. He weighed that feeling against the thought of living in a world without Eddie Kaspbrak and decided this was much better. Yes. However little it was worth, he would trade his life for Eddie's in a heartbeat.

When the rocks started falling over them, first like a fall of rain and then like, well, a bunch of rocks, Richie knew what was coming.

"Eds," he whispered, his tongue wet with his blood and Eddie's blood, numb and coppery and salty with tears. "I-"

~

Richie woke up with a start, his breath ragged and cold sweat covering him. He pressed over his chest, where the pain had been and found that it didn't hurt at all. Eddie was still there, sleeping, a soft, whistling noise coming out of his mouth.

Richie got up and walked toward him, wanting to make sure that he was real and alive. He wanted to touch the length of his body to check that it was warm, open up the bandages to see if there was still blood pumping through him, wake him up and ask about the past just to be certain that it was really him. But no. He concentrated on breathing normally again and once he was sure his hands weren't trembling as much, he reached to cup Eddie's face, gently, like he was made of glass. Eddie hummed in his sleep and leaned into the touch.

"Eds, I-"

He couldn't say it. Not even now. So he removed his hand gently and sat back on the chair. Why couldn't he be brave like Eddie?

~

Seven in the morning brought the same matronly nurse changing Eddie's bandages and almost commanding Richie to get some breakfast. He thought she seemed like the kind of woman that would chastise their children for being undernourished even if they were on the chubby side, and spoil their grandchildren with baked goods.

"I'll be right back," Richie reached for Eddie's hand, still sleeping, and with more confidence than he actually had, he kissed it.

After washing his face, eating his breakfast and buying an astonishingly ugly stuffed animal from the gift shop, he returned to Eddie's room. The nurse was still working and Richie caught a glimpse of the wound, healing, yes, but terrifying to see still. Eddie was awake now.

"Morning, sunshine," Richie said and ruffled Eddie's hair, trying to ignore how wonderful it felt to see the bright brown of his eyes again.

"Morning, Rich," he replied absently.

"I brought you something," Richie handed him the stuffed animal.

"What is it, uh, supposed to be?"

"It's a squirrel, see?" Richie pointed at the fluffy tail. When they were kids, Eddie had been very vocal about how disgusting squirrels were, ridden with diseases and shit. "It even looks like it's got rabies."

"Gee, thanks!"

Richie waited for a biting insult or Eddie throwing the squirrel to his face but he got nothing. Eddie had a tense smile on his face; it could be that he was in pain but Richie read it as something else... Embarrassment.

"Uh, Annabeth here," Eddie gestured at the nurse, "was telling me about a theory she has," he cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

"I was just telling him that there's a correlation between the closeness of the soulmates and the speed of the recovery," she explained. "Eddie is making a very quick recovery and so his fiancé must love him very much," she added lightly.

"Oh?" Richie stood there, perplexed.

"See, Annabeth asked about my boyfriend and I was like 'Who?' and she said 'The man in the glasses' and I said 'Oh, that's not my boyfriend'," Eddie explained frantically, while giving him the most apologetic look, asking him without words to play along. "'That's my fiancé'"

Richie snorted and then bit his lip to stop from cackling so loud he would wake the whole ward. Eddie was still giving him that look and Richie would do anything for him but this was downright stupid. Still, Richie wasn't above stupid so when he managed to breathe normally again he nodded. "Yeah! Sorry, it's still so recent I can hardly believe it myself," he took Eddie's hand. "Dunno where I'd be without my Eddie Spaghetti! Can't believe he's making an honest man out of me," he said all this through a ridiculous grin and with tears in his eyes; he only hoped it looked endearing instead of manic.

"Then," Eddie continued (oh, there was more, _great_), "she asked me about how you had proposed and, uh, well, you tell the story much better than I do, Rich."

"Right! Well, it is a very good story!" _Showtime_, Richie thought. "We had gone to a basketball game -you wouldn't guess it looking at Eddie now, but he's a huge basketball fan. Everything was great until they did the kiss-cam thing," he did a bit of a dramatic pause for the hell of it. Eddie looked half-relieved that he was playing along and half-terrified of what he was going to come up with; Richie was in his element and thriving. "So, they pointed the kiss-cam at me and some random chick next to me. Now, for some context, Annabeth, you should know that I am a mediocre comedian, we were keeping our relationship low-key, and Eddie is a jealous ball of rage," Eddie looked like he was about to intervene but Richie silenced him with a glare that said _'Remember I'm saving your ass, dickhead'_. "So, before I could react and politely decline this young lady, Eddie grabbed my face and gave me a smooch. I, of course, kissed him back and it would have been a lovely story to tell the grandkids except that the crowd started laughing. They thought it was a joke," Richie's tone turned somber and he made a show of taking Eddie's hand like it was the most precious thing he had held. "We left as soon as we could and then, back home and a little upset, it happened. I held Eddie and I told him: 'This isn't a joke for me, you're my person and I would love to stay with you for as long as you'll have me,'" Richie turned to look at Eddie and found no humor nor terror, just childlike wonder. "And then he said-"

"I said that I wanted that too," Eddie finished softly. "The two of us, together forever."

There was a weird silence that stretched over them, fragile and full of meaning as they stared at each other. But like with everything, Richie had the impulse to break it immediately.

"Now, the other thing that you should know, is that Eddie baby is a risk analyst," oh, how he savoured the outrage on Eddie's boyish features when he called him baby, "so I knew he didn't mean 'forever-forever' but it was sweet anyway."

~

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Richie was still chuckling as he sat down on the chair and put his arms behind his head, trying super hard to be casual about all this.

"You saw her! She's so fucking _kind_! You go tell her that our whole soulmate thing is bullshit!" Eddie winced and covered his cheek because all the big gestures he was doing were pulling on his stitches. "She told me there was a chance they could save my lung because you were such a dedicated soulmate and never left my side!" he rubbed his chest carefully. "And if you hadn't covered for me, I would have looked like an insensitive moron," Eddie added, the words were chewed up and came from the side of his mouth, like he didn't really want Richie to hear them.

"Oh, Eds, you still look like a moron," Richie said in a fake sugary voice. "She thinks you're engaged to me," he finished with a cackle that was both self-deprecating and a little bit sad.

"Listen," Eddie sat up and gave him that determined look that was so entirely his, "you'd be an absolute pain in the ass as a husband; I'm not denying that. But there are worse things to be, Bev's ex, for instance," he waited for Richie to say something but he seemed to have short-circuited were he sat. "Plus it was a nice proposal story," Eddie shrugged. "Where'd you steal that from? The Hallmark channel?"

"Ha ha," Richie threw him a balled up tissue. "I made that up, dickface. I'll have you know, I was top of my improv class back in the day," he arched his eyebrows, relieved that they were moving to lighter subject matter.

"What's stopping you from writing your own material then, smartass?"

"I suppose-" Richie paused. What could he say that wasn't too much? How much did he want Eddie to know? And how much did Eddie already know? "Uh, I guess I felt my life wasn't- you know- uh-"

"You have such a way with words, Richard," Eddie faked a besotted voice, cocking his head and smirking.

"Oh, fuck you!" Richie crossed his legs and arms, like a kid doing a tantrum. "You know what? Figure it out, I'm not telling you!"

"Oh, come on!" Eddie threw back the tissue to Richie's face. "Rich! I was joking! Rich?"

"I'm gay," Richie said, almost without meaning to, staring at his feet, his heart thumping inside his chest.

"Okay," Eddie said after a beat. Richie turned to look at him; he looked serious, yes, but not alarmed and certainly not repulsed. "Are you, uh, okay with that? Sorry, no! Dumb question," Eddie shook his head and blushed.

"No, it's not dumb. For a long time, I wasn't okay with it but now, I think I am?" Richie pursed his lips. "Did you know? Back then, I mean."

Eddie rubbed his palm over his heart, right where the medical tape ended. "I-"

Right in that moment, the Losers came in, with big smiles, and carrying an edible arrangement.

"What did we miss?" Ben -bless his soul- asked innocently.

"I'm gay," said Richie automatically, waving lamely.

"Oh, that's-" Ben started.

"Wait, wha-" Bill asked.

"Are you joki-" Mike interrupted.

"Oh, we knew that," Bev said sweetly and went to kiss the top of Richie's head and sit next to him on the spare chair.

~

Turns out, they didn't really know about it, except Bev, maybe Stanley, and Eddie hadn't said... He was unusually quiet as they discussed Richie's dating history (of disaster) and debated whether Mike was an otter or a hunk. They left when visiting hours were over, and the room suddenly felt very tense and quiet.

"Hey, you okay?" Richie asked when he turned to find Eddie frowning.

"Yeah. Just tired," he replied blandly.

"You should have told us. We could have talked about my fucking sad life story some other time," Richie nudged Eddie's foot over the bedsheets. "Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless it makes you uncomfortable," Richie said, worrying his lower lip.

Eddie took a deep breath. He scooted to one side of the bed and waited for Richie to climb up next to him. It felt right, somehow, to sit like that. It felt like they were stupid kids again, sitting at the foot of Richie's bed talking about stupid things.

"It did make me uncomfortable," Eddie said, reaching between them to grab Richie's wrist, "but not for the reasons that you think."

"Okay?"

"You asked if I knew back then. I- I knew that you weren't as interested in girls as you said you were. You didn't look at any girl the way Ben looked at Bev. You didn't look at anyone that way, for that matter," Eddie cleared his throat. "I suppose I was expecting -if neither of us found our soulmate- that we'd be dysfunctional bachelors together. I was-" he let out a sad chuckle and it took everything in Richie not to hug him tight and kiss the top of his head. "I was actually going to ask if I could stay at your place for a while, when I got better but, uh-"

"Hey! This doesn't change anything, Eds. Of course you can stay with me," Richie waited until Eddie turned to look at him. "We could be Julia Roberts and what's-his-face at the end of My Best Friend's Wedding."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Eddie sniffled. "Am I Julia Roberts?"

"Why would you even ask? You were always the cute one, dumbass," Richie nudged his side playfully.

Eddie remained quiet for a while, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, looking much younger all of a sudden. "What do you want? Now that the curse is broken and all that shit."

"I guess, write my own material? I've kind of come to terms with the fact that I'm not getting everything I want so..." he shrugged and threw his arm around Eddie's shoulders. "This is good enough."

"Richie," there it was again, that stern, determined look. Eddie wasn't going to stop until he said it, the stubborn little shit.

"Don't make me say it, Eds," Richie looked at the ceiling, like he was praying, not that he'd ever done it, but maybe this was a good moment to start.

"Come on, it's just me! Don't be a baby!"

"Ha!" that was rich, he thought, and oh-so-ironic. "What the hell," Richie lowered his gaze, directed it to Eddie's eyes and tightened slightly his grip on him. "You said I didn't see anyone that way. Well that was wrong. I did, Eddie. I still do."

He waited for the shoe to drop, for the horrible realization to color Eddie's features, for him to draw away and start making excuses as to why this was never going to happen... But Eddie kept perfectly still. He stared at Richie's eyes, at the little bit of hair that showed over the collar of his shirt, at his collarbone; like on autopilot his hand moved towards it, hovered above it, not touching, not yet. Then his palm was on Richie's cheek, his thumb tracing over his cheekbone. Then his hair, the mess of it, moving strands away from his face. Richie closed his eyes, trying to commit the feeling to memory, the warmth, the gentleness of it. Eddie's thumb brushed over his lips and then his fingers curled around the back Richie's neck, tugging him down.

Their lips brushed, and Richie sighed into the kiss. Suddenly, everything was Eddie: his soft hair, his eager lips, the taste of green jello on his tongue...

"Eddie, I- I'm not..." Richie mumbled, their foreheads still touching, his palm over Eddie's knee.

"Don't ruin this, you fucker," Eddie kissed him again, and again, with a little bite, daring Richie to deny it was good. "You were going to say you're not my soulmate, yes? Well, I know and I don't give a fuck, okay?" he tugged at Richie's hair lightly. "Who cares if you can't heal me like some fucking shaman? I'm not letting this go, not again."

Richie chuckled with relief. How wonderful to have Eddie kiss his smile and touch his hair and hum into his mouth. The hospital ward was quiet and the sun had set a while ago. It was just the two of them, between coarse sheets, in a tangle of tubes and wires, their kisses slow and careful. Tender, lazy, warm, like an afternoon spent at the Barrens, every beep a reminder of how precious Eddie's life was.

In some other world, without the curse, they would have done this as teens and they would have held on to it, the feeling of something good and right.

~

"Eduardo, mi amor, it's late!" Richie hollered from the hallway. He was fidgeting with his bow tie; the town car that was taking them had been waiting outside for about fifteen minutes now. He heard the clank of something in the bathroom and a muttered 'Fuck!' so he went inside.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just cut myself shaving, like a moron," Eddie was struggling with his cufflinks, while holding a bit of toilet paper to his jaw. He was almost fully dressed, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his hair a little messy. Beautiful.

"Gimme," Richie offered his hand and settled the cufflinks on both of Eddie's wrists, giving a playful swat to each hand as he finished. "Let me see that," Richie moved to cup Eddie's face, and, there, near his ear, he saw a tiny cut. "Might need to call 911," he deadpanned, "call the whole thing off..."

"Stop breathing on it!"

Richie was about to let him go when the most irrationally sweet instinct got over him. He pressed his lips over the cut, lovingly.

"Richard, what the fuck?!" Eddie tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

"I kissed it better!" he put his most innocent face on as he let him go. Eddie was practically shaking with anger as he moved towards the mirror to clean the cut; Richie was preparing for the talking-to that was to come, staring at his shoes, but nothing happened, just silence. He looked up and Eddie had frozen mid-motion, mouth wide open, almost comical.

"What?"

"It's gone," Eddie mumbled. "The cut."

Richie walked to him and examined every angle but found nothing. He had actually kissed it better? Like some soulmate bullshit...

"Fuck," Richie started counting in his head the many illnesses, accidents, and just general ailments that had happened to Eddie while in his presence. "Your asthma?"

"Those were anxiety attacks, actually," Eddie said softly, apparently going through it too.

"Your broken arm?" Richie took a seat on the edge of the tub.

"My Mom kept me away from you all that summer, remember?"

"The whole impalement thing?"

"Could have been much worse. Everybody said it. I was supposed to die," Eddie was slicing the air emphatically.

Richie let out a big sigh. "Shit!"

Eddie hummed in agreement.

"Well, s'ppose it's handy we're already getting married, huh?"

"I guess so. We're so dumb," Eddie chuckled. He held out his hand for Richie, following his eyes as he stood up, towering some inches above him. "Hey."

"Hey, you," he pressed their lips together sweetly. Suddenly, it all made sense, how right it felt to be together, how they kept crossing paths even when they had forgotten. "Did you know?" Richie asked, his kisses moving to Eddie's eyelids and nose.

Eddie hummed against Richie's neck. "I think we both knew well enough."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love <3  
Come talk to me at my tumblr (@aralisj) if you want :)


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